grief and the five stages
by solicitors
Summary: but he wants to remember, he wants to remember — lucas/maya
**i just watched this episode of criminal minds that was sad. im only in s6 so you can guess what**

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Farkle likes to cut off his emotions, sometimes, you know. He says to himself in the dead of the night while he's lying on the soft silk sheets that maybe, perhaps, not listening to yourself, not letting yourself grief is perhaps the best course of action. He knows that Riley has a chart, or something, called the five stages of grief. He's great at remembering, he is, but sometimes he forgets the phases and what stage he's at.

He must be at denial.

Riley thinks she has it all figured out, too. Farkle says that she needs to sit down and maybe think for a little while. She says she's on stage five, but really, truly, anybody that knows her knows says she's on stage one as well. Look in her room and you'll see that it hasn't changed, not one bit. Her purple sheets still are softly made and she sits at the bay window, sometimes, waiting for someone.

So she clips her hair up in the morning and puts on that big smile, because she has it all figured out. It's the five stages of grief, and she's accepted it. At least, she thinks so. But, you know, when it's late at night, she curls up in a ball under her sheets and she stays there for awhile, hoping that everyone just _drowns_ out.

She just wants everyone to drown out and she wants all of her thoughts gone; she wishes, only.

Auggie, on the other hand, is not good at things like this. His bottom lip quivers slightly when he's picking at his cold pancakes in the morning, and he looks over to the other side of the table. He blinks once, knowing nothing will happen. But he does it anyway.

He's on stage three, much farther along than Farkle and Riley (no matter how much she tells herself). He's not angry, not anymore, at least. His voice shakes only slightly, and he wonders what would have happened different if he were there. He wonders if crawling into bed at night with Riley, sometimes (before she kicks him out) is good or healthy.

He wonders if he could bargain the universe for another deal, because this is not what he asked for.

Topanga still sets out a plate in the morning, filling it up with strawberries and chocolate pancakes - a personal favorite. The seat remains open, as if she's waiting for someone. She sits and she waits and waits and waits until she has to go to work, her kids are at school and her husbands at work and she waits for a little while longer.

When she gets home, the plate is still there, but now with moldy food. It lies there, untouched, and she decides to throw it away and put the plate in the wash. She sets dinner out for her family, leaving an extra plate - just in case. And when it sits there, growing older by the minute and remaining there, she picks it up by the end of the night, and puts it in the wash.

She wakes up in the morning and makes just enough for her family, and just a little extra.

You know, just in case.

Cory sits behind his desk, sometimes, and rubs his eyes. He sees the desk, just sitting there. As if it were trying him, challenging him, making fun of him. He thinks, perhaps, that sometimes the desk could be filled if he imagined hard enough.

He sits at the dinner table, where it's filled with silence, and he looks at the untouched plate. The impression is still on the seat, seeming as if someone sat there. But it's kind of faded, now, as if they haven't sat there in awhile.

Zay skips school, more than his mama would like. He goes around the back of the school where the kids who sell blunts hang out and he sits there for awhile, ignoring the traffic and the boys hooting. They kind of just let him be there, you know. They don't know what it's like, not really.

He stares up at the clouds, too, and he sees faces. They all swirl in his head, eventually, and he sits back with his head against the wall. He thinks that taking drugs, maybe, could relieve his pain. But his friends tell him that it won't, it will only make things worse.

But all he wants to do is forget.

And Lucas, oh Lucas.

He sees it in his head, he sees the accident and he replays it over and over again until his brain hurts. He knows, he knows that the universe hates him. Because he can see it, over and over again. He watches her lips smile and whisper to him, he barely remembers now.

He wishes, sometimes, that he could remember how she smells. How her hair felt against his skin, and he wishes that her eyes weren't blurry. He doesn't remember if they're blue or if they're green, but he thinks that's what alcohol does to you. It makes him forget, and that's all he wants to do.

But he wants to remember, he wants to remember.

He goes over to her house, sometimes, and he walks through to her room. Her bed is made as if it were never bothered and he sits down there, and he lies. He remembers how she smells, then, because he stays there for awhile. He remembers, you know, lying down in her bed with her.

He calls her, too. Hoping that maybe, perhaps, she'll pick up. He knows, though, he knows. He's not in denial, like Riley and Topanga. He's not bargaining like Auggie, and he's not angry like Cory is. He's depressed, as he listens to her soft voice ring through her voicemail.

He pays for her phone bills so he won't lose the last recording he has of her voice.

This is Maya, leave it at the beep.

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 **i wrote this in like 10 minutes so it's really weird. anyway, i wanted to write it like where you couldn't really tell who was dead and what happened, but at the end i made it more obvious. sorry it wasnt really that sad im kind of bad at writing angst**

 **i dont say how she dies but that's up to yall**

 **review and fave hehe**


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